The Song, The More It Changes
by Lomonaaeren
Summary: Harry and Draco have gone in opposite directions since the war: Harry more involved in the magical world, Draco more involved in the Muggle one. When they meet unexpectedly one day, it's a chance for both of them to get a glimpse of the world they left behind. COMPLETE.


**Title** : The Song, The More It Changes  
 **Disclaimer** : J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.  
 **Pairing** : None, gen  
 **Content Notes** : Fluff, post-war, present tense  
 **Wordcount** : 2200  
 **Rating** : PG  
 **Summary** : Harry and Draco have gone in opposite directions since the war: Harry more involved in the magical world, Draco more involved in the Muggle one. When they meet unexpectedly one day, it's a chance for both of them to get a glimpse of the world they left behind.  
 **Author's Notes** : This is another of my July Celebration fics, originally for an Advent prompt that asked for Harry and Draco essentially exchanging lives and becoming more like each other, then meeting up one day.

 **The Song, The More It Changes**

"...Potter?'

Harry pauses and turns his head. He's become used to all the different ways people can say his name, from startled to sneering to awed to disbelieving. But this one mixes the last emotion with something he's not as familiar with.

And he blinks harder when he sees who's standing there, staring at Harry, and wearing a plain grey jacket that nearly blends with his Muggle suit. If it wasn't for that blond hair, so distinctive as to never be forgotten, Harry would have no idea who he was looking at.

"...Malfoy?"

Malfoy smiles in what appears to be genuine pleasure and steps forwards with his hand out. Harry takes it before he can think about how much history they're making, or remaking. To his relief, though, Malfoy doesn't look as though he minds that much or places that much weight on the gesture. He's examining Harry's robes with a knowing eye.

"Wester?"

"Yeah." Harry smiles and tugs at the collar of his robe a little self-consciously. Wearing dress robes, especially the kind that all the pure-bloods in the Ministry wear, came hard to him at first. Now he doesn't think about it much anymore.

Except when he's around Muggles, of course. And Malfoy looks like one. Glancing at him, Harry can't even see the outline of his wand in sleeve or trouser leg.

Malfoy smiles at him as if he knows what's going through Harry's mind, but forgoes commenting on it. "You can spare a few minutes?"

Harry blinks. "Sure," he says, wondering if Malfoy's going to ask him to contribute to a cause or a business. It's the main reason that people stop him in the street now and ask him for a minute of his time, bar the odd person who wants to debate a magical theory in his latest book with him.

Harry usually refuses, with varying levels of politeness, the people who want his money. But he thinks he might give some to Malfoy in exchange for the story of what he'll do with it.

Malfoy gives the area around the Ministry a quick glance that makes Harry wonder if he's a spy of some sort. And then he wants to laugh at himself, because clearly part of him never grew out of the adventures he had at Hogwarts.

Maybe catching a hint of what he's thinking, Malfoy gives him a faint smile and shakes his head. "It's nothing too dramatic, Potter, I promise. Just a few minutes. Over drinks, though?" He doesn't so much nod towards Diagon Alley as point his chin towards it.

"Sure," Harry says again, and follows, amused at himself and curious about a new person. It's a nice change from the sort of weary guilt he usually experiences when he's refusing someone's idea for a charity.

* * *

Malfoy stands out in the Leaky Cauldron enough that a few people stare at him, but he doesn't seem bothered. He takes a seat and requests butterbeer, then cocks his head at Harry with some of the same emotions Harry is feeling shining from his eyes.

"Do you want something stronger?" he adds, as if he thinks that's the reason Harry is hesitating a little.

Harry starts, shakes his head, sits down. He was actually just appreciating, again, the contrast between Malfoy's own Muggle clothes and his own thick, quietly red robes with silver lace and gold edging around the cuffs. "It's not the right time of the morning for Firewhisky."

"And Firewhisky is all you drink?"

"Of course not," Harry says, and maintains his dignity just long enough to make Malfoy look a bit anxious. Then he grins. "There's also butterbeer."

Malfoy leans back against the wall, watching Harry with a speculative gaze Harry would try himself if he didn't feel it was impolite. "I've heard of you. Premiere magical theory researcher in the Ministry now. I always thought that role would go to Granger."

Harry shrugs with one shoulder. "It did for a while. But then she got more interested in history. She's teaching at Hogwarts now. She finally convinced Binns that it would be better to go study goblins himself and bring back any reports on their dastardly rebellious movements..." Harry stretches the suspense out, seeing Malfoy's creeping grin.

"And?"

"Now he haunts Gringotts."

Malfoy bursts out laughing, drawing more than one stare. But Harry can only smile as he goes up to fetch their drinks. There's something surreal about sharing a joke with Malfoy this way, but that doesn't matter.

What does is seeing the smile Malfoy gives him as he comes back, and the slow look he gives Harry's robes again, shaking his head as if he can't really believe it. That gives Harry an opening to ask his own question.

"How did you start getting into the Muggle world?"

Malfoy sips his butterbeer for a long time instead of replying, which makes Harry fear the question was unwelcome. He's about to apologize when Malfoy looks off to the side and answers, his voice as soft as though he's retelling a dream he had the night before.

"After the war, this world seemed so limited. You understand?" Harry nods in spite of himself. If he hadn't learned to deepen his perception of the wizarding world through research into its history and culture, he probably wouldn't have stayed himself. "I started going into the Muggle world because it was _different_. It required me to be alert and stay alert, and learn what people would stare at me for, and what to say, and how to adapt. I didn't get that from here anymore.

"I knew too many people from the war. I could guess what someone was thinking of me the instant I looked into their eyes or heard their name. But in the Muggle world, I'm free. Even though I have a job in an office now and I've made some money, most people pass me by in the street not caring." He shuts his eyes and waves a hand in front of him. "I don't know if I can show you that as being liberating..."

"You can." Harry puts all the fervor of his near-decision to move to the Muggle world into his voice. He would like to walk down a street without being recognized and gaped at, yes. And the times when he goes into the Muggle world to visit Hermione's parents or Dudley or a library that has more mundane and extensive resources than the wizarding world's, he revels in it.

Malfoy stops and blinks. Then he says, "I can."

And there's no question in his voice, no accusation that Harry must enjoy the attention such as happens sometimes even with people he's friendly with here. Harry toasts him with his butterbeer.

Malfoy nods slowly. That gives Harry the chance to ask, "And what do your parents think of this?" He never would have dared the question with most Slytherins he knew, but Malfoy is, for a certain definition, the one he "knows" best.

Malfoy shakes his head. "My father wasn't pleased. But nothing pleases my father anymore except time to be with my mother." His jaw clenches for a moment. "I could have stayed here and gone into exactly the sort of politics at the Ministry that he always did, and all he would have told me about were the things I was doing wrong."

"And your mother?" Harry has a soft spot for Narcissa Malfoy still, for all that it's been years since he saw her.

"She understands how you can change your mind about important things and have to accept that someone you love never will."

Malfoy has his head bowed, his nostrils barely fluttering with his breath. Harry leans over and touches his hand with a daring he wouldn't have had an hour ago. Malfoy looks up and gives him another faint smile.

"And she's okay with you living among Muggles?"

Malfoy responds to Harry's lighter tone with a relieved nod of his head. "I can always entertain her with stories of what peculiar thing I didn't understand this week. That's a bond between us. And she doesn't feel like I've abandoned her as long as I come home once a week, or owl her once a week if I can't spare the time."

Harry just nods. He wonders for a second what else to say, but then finds the words. "And you didn't have any trouble getting over your prejudice about Muggles?"

Malfoy coughs on his mouthful of butterbeer. "Only you would dare to ask me something like that, Malfoy."

"I don't think it's a particularly daring question, Malfoy. Just a potentially rude one."

Malfoy returns the grin after a second. Then he says, "I don't think of myself as one of them. But I've learned that they can be just as business-minded as wizards. And just as short-sighted, just as interesting and ignorant and enthusiastic." He frowns down at his mug. "I might have never learned that if not for the way some people reacted to me after the war, though."

Harry nods in understanding and is about to ask another question, but Malfoy suddenly tilts his head and pierces him with a direct gaze. "Time for a potentially rude question of my own. Why did you decide magical _theory_ was going to be your way to understand the wizarding world? It's a fairly abstruse subject."

Harry lowers his head and watches the edge of his robe cuff where he picks at it and there's a thread coming unraveled. He knows what he believes. But it always comes out wrong when he wants to say it.

"I won't blame you no matter what you say."

And _that_ is the right thing for Malfoy to say. Harry sends him a faint smile and nods. "I wanted to understand the why behind things. Hermione taught me some history, but I don't think it...does enough. It only gives me a reason to understand some things about wars and rebellions and laws. But what about the laws of magic? What about the reasons that we cast some spells and ban others? Why are the Unforgivables Unforgivable? I want to know those things, and most people couldn't tell me why. But theory lets me _see_ why."

He stops, embarrassed. Some people in the Leaky Cauldron have turned around to stare at him, although Harry thinks that's only because he's famous and loud at the moment. He can feel how hard his ears are stinging, and he rubs them.

"Ahhh." Malfoy nods and sips his butterbeer again, looking a little to the side as if he wants to spare Harry the embarrassment of a direct gaze. "It sounds to me like we went deeper into the worlds we chose for the same reason."

Harry frowns. "I don't know what you mean." And he no longer can sit easy with statements when he doesn't know what they mean.

Malfoy sips again and again, and finally says, "I wanted to know why Muggles did what they did. You want to know why magic does what it does. Magic is wizards, in a way, the most important thing about us for a lot of people." He turns and studies Harry again. "And although you don't say it, I think the war is a reason you chose this path, too."

Harry pauses, then says it fast and in an undertone, so that the others in the pub can't hear. "I wanted to know why magic was the cause of all these beautiful _and_ all these horrible things? How did it happen? I didn't understand, and I wanted to."

Malfoy reaches out, keeping his arm beneath the table so that no one else can see it, and he touches Harry's hand. Harry nods a little and raises his drink again in a silent toast.

Malfoy puts his mug down. "I should go."

Harry nods. He can see some of the gazes around them sharpening, as people figure out this isn't some random Muggleborn wizard Harry's entertaining, but someone they might know. "I can understand. I feel the same way about being too long among Muggles."

Malfoy gives him a deep smile, a little curl at the corners of his mouth and a light in his eyes Harry knows he's never seen before. "Too uneasy away from our chosen worlds?"

"That's it. See you, Malfoy."

Harry watches him go and shakes his head a little, smiling. It's rare that seeing someone from the past stirs him this way, and leaves him happier for a conversation. He puts down his own Galleons and meanders slowly back into the alley, watching robes swish past him, thinking about Muggles and wizards and changes and permanence.

He wouldn't mind seeing Malfoy again.

 **The End.**


End file.
